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When I’m snowbound (think “The Shining”), I like to clear out my cluttered spaces; because clutter=claustrophobia=really grumpy Peri.

(If he would have de-cluttered instead of going all murder-rage, he would have enjoyed winter a little more.)

January is a great time to clean out the house. You’ve got cool new Christmas presents to find places for, it’s too cold do anything but complain, and there’s no real holiday until Valentine’s Day. Here’s my organizational plan:

#1–Tackle the pantry: Time to throw out all the healthy food you bought LAST January when you started your “healthy eating” phase that lasted 17 days. Toss the expired quinoa, the moldy wheat germ, the chia seeds that have grown tentacles and the Jillian Michaels protein powder you tried once–and then fed to the dog (who also didn’t eat it).

#2–Firebomb the bedroom closets: That skirt that will fit when you lose 15 more pounds? Yeah. Ain’t gonna happen. Ruthlessly purge the too-tight pre-pregnancy jeans, the sweatshirt you spilled ketchup on during your first date in high school, the yellow silk blouse with 3-inch purple polka dots you wore to your mom’s third wedding and the handkerchief top you purchased during your Bohemian phase. Throw everything out and start over.

(“But I wear ALL of these clothes! Every day!”)

#3–Pack up the garage: Are you really going to use that Health Rider? Does your husband really need two golf bags (don’t ask him)? Get rid of the deflated basketballs, broken croquet mallets, unstrung tennis rackets and the rusty bikes you SWEAR you’re going to refurbish and ride this year.

#4–Attack the kids’ bedrooms: If you didn’t do this before Christmas, now’s the time. Once kids are back in school, show no mercy on their broken and/or discarded toys. It might be easiest to throw a grenade under the bed, but if you want to be a little more subtle, toss every headless Barbie, unstuffed animal, broken crayon and all those stupid, stupid Happy Meals toys. Kids don’t notice. If they do, tell them you were robbed.

#5–Venture into your husband’s space: It might be a den, a man cave, an office or just a room under the stairs a la Harry Potter but chances are it’s packed with Pringle’s cans, dust-covered trophies from his 5th grade bowling team, piles of “important documents,” and ticket stubs from every Major League Baseball game he’s ever attended. A little gasoline and a tiny match should do the trick.

Now you can buy all NEW stuff to fill those empty spaces. Hello, pencil skirts!